Loss, and my first Canada Day

When you live in or are from a small town, you get used to no-one except the people living there or from there having much to say about the place.  Your focus narrows to the daily doings of your small town, and you expect that the world at large will mostly ignore you and these daily doings, as they are neither earth-shaking nor very important, to the way of most people's thinking.

I was born in a small town, for even though it is the parish capital of Westmoreland and a town of venerable age (established by the Spaniards prior to the English conquest in 1655, hence the name of the town, which means "grassland by the sea"), and in spite of its recent building boom in the last decade or so, Savanna-la-Mar remains very much a small town.  I received all my primary and secondary education in this small town, so I am very much a small town girl.  In spite of almost six and a half years in Kingston, I still identify with small town people, small town ways and small town thinking.

As a consequence of my upbringing, or perhaps as an advantage of it, I am very much at home in E.L.  I don't mind that there's only one mall, that selections and options are limited so far as restaurants, activities or entertainment, I grew up with that.  I am very good at amusing myself, as a consequence, and have a high tolerance for what most people would describe as boredom.  More to the point, all the "necessary" modern conveniences are here, especially the internet, so I feel like I lack nothing.

What I have not built up a tolerance for, is loss.  And loss came to E.L. with a vengeance 8 days ago, and took with it some of the security, and a great deal of the anonymity, that is treasured in small towns.  You don't wake up and expect that by the end of the day your small city, barely a dot on the map to most, will be all over the national news because a building fell apart and took with it some of your fellow townspeople.  Yet, that is exactly what happened on Saturday, June 22nd, to E.L.

Now, just over a week later, there are families grieving their loved ones, as two lives were lost, and the mall itself is now lost to the community, taking with it the employment of almost three hundred people.  For awhile, as the questions linger, our anonymity is lost, as news crews try to get opinions, as government officials search for answers, and both publish these to the wider community.  

As a consequence of the mall tragedy, there is a pall over my first Canada Day.  Or perhaps, not so much a pall, as a solemnity is cast over the day that is not associated with such celebrations of nationhood.  The sense of patriotism and national pride usually felt on these days is dampened by the knowledge that there are families among us mourning, feeling the loss of loved ones not present to share in yet another memorable day.  Events in town have been cancelled, rightly so to my mind, and persons are left to their own devices insofar as how they will mark the occasion.

In time, the questions will be answered, and E.L. will go back to being a small city, and of not much notice to anyone who doesn't live here or isn't from the town so as to be familiar with its ways and doings.  Until then, a sad something lingers in the air, and a day of national joy comes with tears.